Piper: Huh?
Kit: What you'll end up doing.
Piper: Not yet.
Kit: You have time.
Piper: If you say so.
Kit: I remember being nineteen. Felt like I couldn't grow up and have my own life fast enough.
Piper: Yes, you're jaded now that you're an old man at 26.
Kit: It's a lot older than 19.
Piper: It's seven years older than 19.
Kit: That's almost half your life.
Piper: What's it like, knowing everything? Does it get exhausting?
When he doesn't reply immediately, I cringe. Was that too harsh? Kit seemed up for teasing yesterday, but that might have been a one time thing.
He might not actually want a friendship with me.
I refill my water to force myself to step away from my phone.
My heartbeat picks up as I pick it back up.
Kit: I should ask you. Is it a burden?
My lips curl into a smile. He's teasing back.
It's strange. I've known Kit for three years now. He's always been cordial, but we haven't had much in the way of meaningful one-on-one interaction. He never struck me as the playful, teasing type.
He's more intense and secretive.
And troubled.
Kit: You should enjoy being a kid. It doesn't last long.
Piper: You're a rock star.
Kit: Did you just figure that out?
Piper: Isn't that a perpetual adolescence?
Kit: You've got two brothers in my band. You should know.
Piper: Mal's never been a kid.
Kit: And Ethan?
Piper: Ethan will be a kid until the day he dies. They aren't good test cases.
Kit: You should rethink that lawyer thing.
Piper: I'll take that